Standing at the Scratch Line (90 page)

“It is I who feel blessed, Reverend,” Serena answered.

“I must take my leave take now,” Reverend Small said. “Amos, will you step out with me? I want to show you somethin’.”

“Course, suh.” Amos walked with the reverend to where the bellhop had left Amos’s bundles of belongings.

The reverend stooped down and unwrapped a long narrow bundle and exposed an old but still highly polished banjo. Amos’s jaw dropped wide open. “Used to belong to my pappy,” Reverend Small explained. “It been hangin’ over the fireplace all these years since he passed. The missus and me wanted to find a way to repay you for yo’ hard work and good spirit. We stayed up last night and cleaned it up for you. I wants you to have it, to make music with it, to put some joy in people’s hearts, to make folks tap they feets.”

Amos’s eyes filled with tears. He was without words.

The reverend stepped forward and hugged him. “Just remember what I told you, boy. Let go and let Jesus.” He turned and walked swiftly toward the exit.

As far as Amos was concerned lunch was like something out of a dream. He had never eaten in a restaurant before, much less a high-class place like the Hotel Toussant. He was awed by his surroundings as well by the fact that his sister had become such a lady. She had the bearing of someone who was used to being served and seemed to direct the efforts of the hotel staff with a flawless gentility. Then on top of everything else, the food was fantastic. Amos had two servings of the corn griddle cakes as well as a thick center cut steak and two big glasses of milk. When he got up from the table, he could barely stand, for he had eaten without holding back, as he would not have done had he been eating at Reverend Small’s table.

On the way upstairs, Serena informed him that they would remain at the hotel until the following Tuesday, when they were scheduled to catch a train west through Texas to California.

“Hey, I’m an uncle now!” Amos declared. “Where are my nephews?”

“Only the oldest came with me and he caught a bit of a cough on the trip down here. He’s sleeping now, but later on this evening you’ll have a chance to meet him.” Serena escorted Amos to his room and he was amazed anew at its luxury and fine furnishings. “We’ll go through your clothes tomorrow and see what you need to travel to San Francisco. Why don’t you take the afternoon to rest and we’ll go out to dinner tonight. I’m in the adjoining suite. If you need anything, just knock.” Serena kissed him on the cheek and went through the connecting door.

Amos sat down on the bed and admired it softness. It had a real mattress, not just straw filler, and it had real cotton sheets as well as blankets. Amos laid back on the bed but was afraid to close his eyes because he thought he might be dreaming, and he feared that he would suddenly awake to his father’s shouts and kicks. There was no reason to be afraid. His excitement was too great for an afternoon nap. He got up and went over to his new banjo and unwrapped it. The Smalls had put new strings on it and it needed tuning. He spent the next several hours acquainting himself with his new instrument.

Amos wasn’t sure when he became aware that the door between the two suites was open, but he looked up and saw a five-year-old boy staring at him from the doorway. The boy had light beige skin and curly light brown hair. Amos smiled and beckoned for the boy to come over, but the child ignored his gesture and remained in the doorway. Amos got up and started toward his little visitor, but the boy disappeared with a wail into the other suite. Amos, confused, sat back down with his banjo and played a little blues tune.

Serena came to the door with the boy in tow. “This is your nephew LaValle,” she said as she brought him into the room. “We heard the lovely music you’ve been playing and LaValle wanted to find out who was playing it. I hope we’re not interrupting.”

“No, ma’am,” Amos answered with a smile. “I was just playin’ around.” He knelt down to get a better look at LaValle, who was hiding behind his mother’s skirts. “He named LaValle after Mama’s father?”

“Yes, but I call him Val,” Serena answered with a mother’s smile. “He’s one of my little darlings. Val, come on and meet your Uncle Amos.” She tried to tug him forward, but LaValle resisted by hugging her leg.

“I can see he’s a tetch shy,” Amos said with a laugh. “I’m sho’ with a little time, he and me gon’ be fine. Ain’t that right, Val?”

LaValle did not look at Amos, but pointed to the banjo and said, “I want! I want!” Amos laughed. “Don’t blame you a bit, Val. It sho’ is a pretty instrument ain’t it? Got a sweet tone too. You can probably get one like it if’en you shows interest, but this one here is mines. It be a gift to me from some special people. Don’t mind showin’ it to you though. Come on, feel that wood and the stretched skin on its face.”

LaValle looked up at his mother and she smiled encouragingly. LaValle came out from behind his mother and grabbed a hold of the banjo and tried to yank it out of Amos’s hands.

“Hey, not so rough!” Amos cautioned.

LaValle tried to shift his grip to the strings so that he would have a better purchase on the instrument, but Amos grabbed his hand. Immediately, LaValle tried to bite the hand that held him.

Amos stood up and held the banjo out of reach. LaValle began to bawl loudly. “What’s wrong with him?” Amos asked, confused by the child’s reaction.

“Maybe you ought to be gentler and more understanding,” Serena suggested. “All he wanted to do was look at the banjo.”

“This ain’t no toy, Rena! Didn’t you see the way he grabbed at it? He was gon’ break it!”

“So?” Serena challenged. “I’ll buy you another one!”

“This be a special gift to me, Rena! I don’t want no new one! Ain’t I got a right to keep somethin’ special what’s been give to me? The family who gave this to me did things for me that ain’t been done for me since Mama died. This here banjo is special to me and I wants to keep it!”

LaValle now started to cough raucously even as he continued to wail.

Serena heard the logic of his argument. She nodded reluctantly. “Of course you have a right to keep something that’s meaningful to you. LaValle is probably still feeling the effects of this fever he’s caught. After a good night’s sleep, it’ll probably be all forgotten by tomorrow.”

Dinner that night was taken at the hotel because of Serena’s concerns regarding LaValle. A doctor was called in, but he could not prescribe anything but a sleeping potion since in his estimation LaValle was suffering from a common cold, which he would recover from within a few days. The next day, in accordance with the doctor’s direction, LaValle was given another sleeping potion. Serena hired one of the hotel staff to watch over her son who was sleeping soundly and took her brother out to shop for new clothes.

Amos and Serena were standing on the front steps of the Hotel Toussant at ten in the hot and muggy morning air. There was not a cloud in the sky and the unobstructed rising sun was already beginning to steam the moisture-laden earth. The doorman tipped his red hat and said, “It gon’ be extry hot today, ma’am.” A large, late-model black sedan pulled up in front of the Hotel Toussant and Journer Duryea and Dirty Red got out of the vehicle. Serena and Journer greeted each other warmly and Dirty Red gave Serena a brotherly hug. When Amos was introduced, both Journer and Red were effusive and complimentary of him.

The day passed like a whirlwind for Amos. He had never ridden in such a late-model car. He had never seen the side of New Orleans that was revealed to him that day. He saw debonair colored people wearing the latest fashions; colored people who owned and operated high-priced shops that even catered to white people. He went to a restaurant run by Journer’s family where the food was hot and spicy. Shrimp was a delicacy that he had only a few times in his life, and for the first time he was able to eat his fill. The day seemed like a page out of a fairy tale: rich sister swoops down and rescues brother from poverty and a cruel father. It was hard for Amos to believe that his sister had spent nearly fifty dollars at various stores on his new clothes and shoes. He was on the edge of suffering sensory overload. Fifty dollars was an astounding amount of money. The most expensive shopping that had ever been done on his behalf was the previous summer when he needed a winter jacket, overalls, and boots, and the bill came to just over five dollars at the general store. But on this day his sister had taken him to stores that sold only clothing. Secretly, he wondered how such enterprises could stay in business; they didn’t sell farm tools, ammunition, or feed—all they had was clothing. It didn’t seem possible that a clothing store could be a viable business, but the city appeared to be filled with such mysteries.

It was nearly three-thirty in the afternoon when they returned from the shopping spree. Amos was floating on a cloud. He could not believe his incredible good fortune. Serena directed two of the bellhops to assist him in carrying his new clothes to his room. When Amos unlocked his door he was surprised by what he saw. His room was a mess. The covers had been pulled off the bed. The bundles he had brought with him from the Smalls had been torn open and items were flung around the room. Then he heard the strings of his banjo being struck repeatedly with some kind of object and he saw LaValle in the closet bending over and whacking the skin of the banjo with a shoe. Amos shouted, “Hey!” and rushed to rescue his instrument.

LaValle saw him and an expression of pure fright covered his face. He took off, running for the door and bawling at the top of his lungs. His mother, hearing his screams, knocked open the door adjoining the rooms as she rushed to come to the assistance of her child. LaValle ran right into door as it swung open and it cracked against his head. With a real injury he began to caterwaul even more loudly as he fell to the floor. Serena was instantly by his side. She examined his head for injuries while LaValle gave vent to his sorrows at full blast. LaValle raised his arms to be picked up and she picked up the big five-year-old and hefted him in her arms.

“What did you do to him?” Serena demanded.

“Do to him?” Amos questioned. “I didn’t do nothin’ to him! He set off screaming when he saw me come in and ran right into the door you came through.”

Serena challenged. “Don’t lie! He wouldn’t start screaming like that for nothing. What did you do?”

Amos looked at the two bellhops and shrugged his shoulders. The shorter of the two nodded his head confirming Amos’s statement. “He right, ma’am. He didn’t do nothin’ to the child at all.”

“What started it then?” Serena demanded.

“Look at what he did to my room!” Amos said angrily. “He just tore through my stuff. He broke a string on my banjo by banging on it with a shoe! What’s wrong with him?” The two bellhops made a discreet exit before Serena responded.

Serena saw a look flash cross Amos’s face as he stared at LaValle and it reminded her of the way King sometimes looked at LaValle. It was a look that combined distaste and revulsion. Suddenly she was angry. “There’s nothing wrong with him! How dare you say that? I wonder at what’s wrong with you, scaring a little boy like that!”

“Nobody scared him! He’s just a little sneak who was scared of gettin’ caught is all! He messed up my room! Went through my stuff. He broke my banjo, then ran like a crybaby for you! Ain’t ever seen a child spoilt like him!”

Serena was livid. “How dare you! How dare you call him names after all I’ve done for you?”

“All you’ve done for me?” Amos asked, his anger rising as well. “ ’Cause you done bought me some clothes? If that don’t beat all! I’m s’posed to let that little sneak run through my things ’cause you done bought me clothes! Maybe this ain’t for me, Rena. I had mo’ respect and mo’ privacy in Reverend Small’s three-room house than I got here!”

“Maybe that’s where you belong,” Serena agreed.

“Fine, I got the clothes I came in,” Amos said. “I’ll pack my stuff now and don’t worry. I ain’t takin’ nothin’ you bought.”

LaValle was squirming to get down. Serena finally set him down on the floor. Her head was throbbing with pain. Things were not going right. She wanted to say something to Amos to make him change his mind, but the words eluded her. She was distracted by LaValle tugging on her skirt. “What?” she asked as she turned to him.

He pointed to the banjo on the floor and said, “Mine? Mine?”

“Sho’ give it to him to break up!” Amos said sourly. “Take it as payment for all you done for me! It don’t matter what nobody else’s feelin’s is! I’d rather go back and live with Daddy than go with you!”

Sensing victory, LaValle yanked on her skirt more forcefully. “Mine? Mine?” He continued to point at the banjo.

Her frustration mounting, Serena pivoted without thinking and smacked LaValle’s hand smartly. “No, it is not yours! That banjo belongs to Amos! Now you get out of Amos’s room!” LaValle stumbled backward in shock. She followed him and smacked his hand again. LaValle toddled through the door bawling louder than ever. Serena turned back to Amos, who was kneeling on the floor quietly gathering his belongings into bundles. “Stop! Stop! This isn’t what I wanted and it isn’t what I came here for! I came to get you and have you live with us! That’s what King and I both want!”

Amos looked up and there was anger and disappointment on his face when he replied, “Yeah, but what we want ain’t real! I knew from the get this was too good to be true. I kept tellin’ myself I was gon’ wake up, that it all was a dream. And dog-gone, if I ain’t awake now!”

“This is no dream what I’m offering,” Serena protested. “Come with me to San Francisco! I’ll put you in the best schools. You’ll have a future far away from the hard work and poverty of farming! All this was just a misunderstanding! LaValle’s just a little boy! He can’t harm you!”

“But you can,” Amos answered. “And you ridin’ shotgun for him all the time, don’t take no genius to see that! You embarrassed me in front of them mens who helped me bring up them clothes you bought, accusin’ me of lyin’! I done promised myself when I left Daddy’s farm, I weren’t gon’ put up with no mo’ stuff! It be too hard a row for me to hoe. It be better all around if’en I stay here. I done learned one thing from the Smalls: hard work ain’t bad if’en the folk you live with is good to you. I done mo’ laughin’ with them than I have since Mama died and I busted my butt every day to pull my weight.”